


Jump

by Zoe_Dameron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Betrayal, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mommy Issues, Past Torture, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 09:43:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe_Dameron/pseuds/Zoe_Dameron
Summary: From the prompt:"Poe is sent on a retrieval mission for Leia. As Poe is Leia's most trusted Pilot, he knows whatever he's been sent to collect must be important. But when he arrives the rendezvous point he doesn't find a thing waiting for him. He finds a person.Not just any person, but the General's son.The one who went Dark, and killed so many people. The one who betrayed his family. The one who tore through his mind like it was nothing and took information against the Resistance.The one who apparently wanted to come home now."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lisalicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisalicious/gifts).



> A very late gift from an old exchange! <3

Today, Takodana is warm. Much warmer than Poe remembers it, though his last visit to the lush, green planet was spent mostly in the sky. _That was a good day for the Resistance_ , he thinks to himself as he saunters down the ramp of the transport ship, kicking idly at loose soil once he reaches the forest floor of their landing area.

He leans back and rests against the side of the craft, stretching his legs out in front of him, rolling his ankles as he settles himself down in the grass.

Casually, Poe reaches out a hand and lets a fluffy seed from an unknown plant land gently in his palm. He pulls it to his face and examines it before the wind picks it back up and it drifts away. Part of him wishes he’d brought something to read or work on while General Organa is out gathering whatever they came here for, but the weather is pleasant and it’s nice to let nature move around you once in a while.

Poe knows he overworks himself sometimes, and he knows that he puts his desires and priorities second to those of the Resistance. It can be hard to think about your own well-being when you support the cause wholly and completely, especially when you spend so much time running directly into the line of fire for your beliefs.

But he knows what’s at stake in this fight and that General Organa needs him, so when she says “jump”, Poe Dameron will always be there to ask “how high?”

 _“I need you for a mission, Poe. Off the books, highly classified,”_ she’d said, and he’d practically had the shuttle engine warmed up by the end of that sentence.

And that’s why he’s back on Takodana, watching the afternoon light from the planet’s star dance lazily across the deep blue water of the nearby lake.

The planet’s day cycle was shorter than most and the star had nearly set behind the distant mountains when he finally saw her again, emerging from the thicket of trees not far from where Poe had landed their craft. He pushes himself to his feet, using an arm to steady himself against the ship as he brushes the dirt off of his pants.

General Organa’s small figure works her way around branches and bramble with her head down, and Poe stops himself as he reaches up a hand to wave her over. From his position he can see her eyes are red and slightly puffy around the edges, and her nose is a soft shade of pink, obvious signs of a thorough cry. She’s trying to hide this from Poe, he can tell.

Part of him hopes she teared up from an injury of some kind, maybe a small tumble or a particularly bad allergic reaction. It’s a gross thought, he gets that, but the General is a strong woman who is not known for emotional vulnerability when it comes to things affecting her personally. He’d only seen her openly upset once, but the loss of Lieutenant Bey had been devastating for everyone.

He breaks the space between them in a flash, rushing to her side and laying a respectful hand on her shoulder.

“General Organa, are you alright? Did something happen? What can I…?” he trails off, searching her for any damage.

She waves a hand at him and shakes her head dismissively. “I’ll be fine, Poe. Now, listen,” she begins, taking both of his hands in hers and looking up at him with eyes filled with a level of sorrow he’d never seen on her before. “I will explain all of this but for now I just need you to trust me.“

Poe doesn’t let the confusion reach his face as he reacts to her request, mouth pulled into a kind smile, his brow narrowing, the ‘ _of course_ ’ ready to topple out from between his lips.

The feeling hits him before he has the chance to reply to her, something cold and toxic and familiar crawling through his veins. His breath hitches and he shivers, eyes catching on a tall, pale figure with black hair making its way out of the woods behind them.

Poe recognizes him instantly and it’s like he’s there again, back on Jakku, entire body frozen in darkness as fear envelops him.

“General Organa! _Behind me_!” He throws himself in front of the General, putting space between her and the man approaching them, his hand fumbling for his blaster and raising it in defense, hoping no one can see how violently his hands are trembling.

The man stops for only a second, locking eyes with the General briefly before continuing forward at them, shoulders hunched but confident.

“Stay back!” Poe shouts at the figure he knows with absolute certainty is Kylo Ren, the man turned monster. His helmet and long black cloak are gone, replaced with plain-looking civilian clothes, but the uneasy feeling around him is unmistakable, like the charged air before a lightning strike. The sensation in Poe’s spine lights up as the man stares across the small gap between them, glare leveled directly at the pilot.

“Poe, lower your weapon.” General Organa’s small voice rises up behind him as he feels a firm hand come to rest on his arm. “He’s not a threat.”

“Like hell,” Poe fires back without thinking, finger anxiously tracing back and forth across the short length of the blaster’s trigger. “That’s –”

 _The man who killed Han Solo_ , he wants to say.

_The man who killed Lor San Tekka._

_The man who ordered the slaughter of an entire village._

_The man who nearly killed Finn, and left him broken._

_The man who stole and tried to brainwash Rey._

_The man who did nothing to stop the destruction of the entire Hosnian system._

_The man who ordered Poe’s torture, who delighted in his suffering for hours and hours, who –_

“I know who it is, Poe,” she says, cutting him off.  “Kylo Ren is my son. We are here to retrieve him. This was the mission.”

It takes a second before her words truly reach him, their absurdity clouding his ability to process them. He turns to look at her, his confusion painted plainly across his face. In front of them, Kylo Ren has stilled.

“General Organa, I… I don’t understand, I…” he stammers, trying to catch up to the situation that’s rapidly spinning out of his control.

She grabs his arm tighter, pulling him close. “This was the mission,” she repeats, “to bring him back with us. He has information that could prove valuable to taking down the First Order for good.”

“Bringing – _what_? Bringing down the First Order? General Organa, he _is_ the First Order.” Poe’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he knows he’s skirting the edge of a full blown panic attack. He grips the blaster tighter, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his head that reminds him it’s no use against this enemy.

_Remember the last time you fired your blaster at Kylo Ren?_

_Remember the powerlessness?_

_Remember how it felt?_

_Do you remember, Poe?_

_Of course you do._

He closes his eyes and tries to crowd the voice out, automatically maneuvering himself back between Kylo Ren and the General.

“Poe, I brought you with me on this mission because you are the person I trust most. I need you to cooperate on this.” Her voice is firmer now, reminding him of the tone she takes when they talk across the holo-table about attack plans and strategies. “First Order leadership is planning something and he is offering their intel and movements in exchange for leniency. A plea bargain. And even if he knows nothing, removing him from Snoke’s influence is a monumental victory. This could end the war, Poe.”

He looks down at her, then over at the creature responsible for so much suffering. Poe takes a deep breath and turns back to her. “General,” he pleads, “we can’t, this… it isn’t justice.”

“I know, Poe. It may not feel that way now, but –”

“Your husband, General. Finn. All those people in the New Republic.”

She sighs. “I know, Poe.”

“And…” he says, swallowing the knot in his throat, “ _to_ _me_. You saw. You saw what he did to me on the Finalizer. General, he…” His voice is barely above a whisper, desperate words meant only for her ears.

The pity she feels for him covers her face, and he has never felt more pathetic than he does looking down at her now. “Poe, this is bigger than that.”

Even though he knows she’s right, her words feel like the truest betrayal. She had been there when he first recalled what he had been through, and she knew exactly what Kylo Ren had done to him, had watched him re-live and work through every moment of agony perpetrated upon him as he relayed it.

Because they don't tell you that pain inflicted through the Force doesn't function the way normal pain does. The memory of it re-ignites old sensations and re-opens old wounds, muted slightly around the edges as the same nerves are lit up again and again, echoing through the body like the wailing of a panicked animal caught in a trap.

Force pain is something carried forever, a not-so-gentle reminder that any escape is only in a physical sense, with no amount of distance to be put between the event and the memory of it. He will always be trapped in that cell.

This is what Kylo Ren did to Poe, cut him with a knife so sharp the gash will never heal.

The traces of pain from that day begin to light up just under his skin, familiar and nauseating, and he is only saved by the distraction of Kylo Ren stalking forward towards them again.

“That’s right, Dameron,” he oozes, grinning with a cold calculation the General either looks past or doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m on your side now.”

“ _Bantha shit_ ,” Poe spits back, raising his blaster and leveling it between Ren’s eyes, revulsion pooling in his guts. His finger twitches on the trigger as his muscles scream at him to _take the shot, Dameron, just take the shot._

Behind him, General Organa pulls at his arm. “Poe, lower your weapon.”  

“No! He’s lying, General! He’s a monster. He doesn’t deserve to come back.” Poe tries to ignore her hand on his jacket, and blinks through the memory of the cold, dark cell and how it felt to be chained up and tormented at this man’s command. His grip steadies.

“Poe, lower your weapon,” she repeats, voice breaking. In front of them, Kylo Ren looks on impassively, his self-satisfied grin an unwelcome reaction to their argument.

“No,” he scowls, hyper-focused on exactly where on Kylo Ren’s face he wants to shoot him, settling on the blazing crimson lightsaber scar that bisects his features neatly.

The hand on his jacket falls away and he hears a snap, followed by a sharp pain radiating across his cheek, his head thrown to the side.

“ _Commander Dameron, lower your weapon or I will be forced to relieve you of it_.”

He finally drops his blaster and raises his palm to his sore face, turning to General Organa in shock. She balls her fingers into a fist, trying to shake the pain out of the hand that had slapped him. She’s seething, vibrating with an angry energy that he had never seen from her before. A hurt silence hangs between them for a moment before Poe steps back and stands down, his head lowered in humiliation.

Around him he can see the movement of General Organa and Kylo Ren, one walking to the other and then the two of them walking towards the shuttle, but he keeps his head down. Tears hang at the edges of his eyes and he tries to swallow down his emotions. He doesn’t want them to see him like this.

They leave him standing there in the near-darkness, struggling to catch up with what just happened. Poe had always trusted in the balance of the Resistance, and how they could always be relied upon to do what’s right for the rest of the universe. That was the entire point, wasn’t it?

As he watches the two of them enter the shuttle as allies, his General and the man who had been the cause behind so much destruction and pain in Poe’s life, his resolve cracks, this deep gouge down in the middle splintering off and radiating out like webbing. He sees the beauty of a mother who loves her child unconditionally, even when that child is Kylo Ren. He sees a hero as just a person, one whose judgement can become as compromised as anyone else’s. He hears her tell him to jump and watches himself robotically ask “how high?”

Commander Dameron lowers his head again as he begins the long walk back to the shuttle.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride back to the Resistance base is silent, or at least no one deigns to talk to the pilot. There’s a small voice inside of him that insists they’re communicating with each other, somehow, probably through the Force, but Poe pushes it down and goes back to feeling ignored, like furniture in their company.

When they reach the base he lets them head down the ramp first, hanging behind to busy himself with redundant checks of a ship he could disassemble and reassemble in his sleep; anything to keep his mind off of Takodana and the General and the overwhelming _wrongness_ of Kylo Ren’s presence.

There’s uproar on the tarmac, he can hear it, and he’s not sure how General Organa thought Kylo Ren’s return would go. He wants to march down there to help defend her, to help convince everyone that she knows what she’s doing, that they should trust her, but… things are different, now.

He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to admit it to himself. He can’t.

So, he doesn’t. There is work to be done instead. Ships to keep in the air, mouths to feed, intel to go over, and an ex-Stormtrooper and potential Jedi to find to join him in all of it.

Poe doesn’t wait for things to quiet down outside, opting instead to silently pry open the emergency hatch near the cockpit. He drops into the crowded space below the ship, relocks the hatch, and slips away from the commotion.

\---

For dinner he is joined by Finn and Rey, and they try to get him to talk about recent developments without pushing him too hard for answers. They settle for a nod of a head or a downcast look in response from their pilot, in exchange for a kind hand on his shoulder and a constant flow of alcoholic drinks that seem to smooth his fretted brow.

The rest of the evening is spent avoiding the General, though he’s not even sure she’s been trying to find him. That thought stings but he buries it, pushes it away because it hurts. There’s a sour mix of betrayal and the feeling of being replaced that’s buzzing around in his chest, close enough to a broken heart.

_Her son is home now._

_She doesn’t need you anymore, Poe._

_You were a fine replacement while he was gone, but –_

_Her son is home now._

_Her real son is home now._

_And she doesn’t need you anymore._

He bashes a fist against his forehead, trying to somehow knock loose the feeling of it. Poe knows that if he lets himself think too much about Kylo Ren that the memories of his time on the Finalizer will come bubbling back up, bringing that familiar memory of pain the General’s son had inflicted upon him.

Poe scoffs out loud to no one as he semi-drunkenly stumbles down the hall to his room.

_She’d seen it, Poe. What he did to you._

_She’d seen you on your knees from it._

_She’d read the reports._

_She’d held your hand as you suffered._

_And it doesn’t matter to her._

_It never did._

Frustrated, he bangs a fist against his head again and curses in Yavinese while he keys in the code to his room, fumbling with it once or twice before landing on the correct combination.

The door slides shut and locks behind him, a few beams of artificial light from the hallway leaking through the small slit underneath it. Poe manages to find his way to his bunk and falls onto it face first, feet dangling off the side.

The room begins to spin in the darkness and he lets his eyes fall closed as he begs the Force for a night without dreams.

**_The Finalizer, cell 64949._ **

_He wakes, finally, the ever-present buzz of the interrogation droid reminding him that nothing has improved during his most recent injury-induced unconsciousness._

_The first breath he’s fully aware he takes is painful – a broken rib or two, most likely – but he stays quiet and tries not to show it, doesn’t want to give any goons working him over the satisfaction. The light shining down on him is severe and it stings through his head sharply, and he cracks open his eyes only slightly in his best effort to dull the harshness of it. There’s drying blood covering most of his face but thankfully none has gotten in his eyes._

_He tries to still the dizziness that rocks his vision, grateful that no one has come to punch him yet while he adjusts._

_His merciful solitude doesn’t even last long enough for him to let the pent-up tension out of his muscles, the predatory voice of his captor rising menacingly out of the shadows._

_The sound is muddled and Poe misses what was said, reluctantly gathering what little strength he has left as he lifts his head and leans forward, stealing a nervous glance at the interrogation droid as it hovers purposely within view. He remembered the needles, the shocks, the chemicals, the question repeated until even hearing it became another form of torture, and he looks away as his own distorted reflection comes in to focus._

_The masked man steps closer to where Poe has been left discarded, broken and wrung out and shackled, and mocks him about his well-being. Poe humors him with a response, albeit half-heartedly. It hurts to speak at all._

_He endures the banter until his companion tires of it, and Poe tries not to flinch away as the man raises his hand towards Poe’s face. Poe braces for the impact and swallows a second of confusion when it doesn’t come before he finally feels it, the slow trickle of discomfort beginning to creep through his blood. He tenses up from the unwelcome sensation, syrupy and thick and coarse as it rises from his chest into his throat, coughing weakly as if he could somehow shake himself free of it._

_This fresh pain is like acid pouring over his bones, an inescapable burning that refuses to abate. He’s sick with it, stomach turning itself in knots as he struggles to convince his lungs to keep circulating air._

_He hears the deafening crack of his head against the restraint rack before the sensation of it even reaches him, eyes screwing shut as he shudders through what feels like a broken skull. He laughs to himself, silently, in between waves of competing agonies, his subconscious finding some kind of morbid humor in the First Order’s relentlessness._

_The question comes again and Poe tries to focus on the words instead of the way his muscles are spasming futilely against the too-tight restraints, instead of the wound on his temple that has reopened and is bleeding anew, instead of the air that catches and stops in his throat, straining and tearing through his chest like a forest fire. The dizziness is nearly overwhelming and there’s a growing roar in his ears that makes it hard to hear anything his captor is saying, though Poe has a decent guess as to what the question might be._

_Pushing the words through gritted teeth, he shoots off something daring about the Resistance, instantly regretting the response he gets as his feels the long, invisible tendrils of the Force wrap tightly around his neck, drawing him forward._

_Poe struggles against the intrusion working its way up his spine and into his brain, agony soaking behind his eyes. He coughs out a breath as the grip on his neck tightens, bringing him closer to the black gloved hand of the man directing his torture. He tries to pull away, forearms aching as they’re wrenched unnaturally against the restraints binding his wrists._

_The man asks the question again and again and then it’s all Poe can hear, the words repeated as they bounce around in his skull, increasing in volume until he aches with it. The pain is so overwhelming that he can’t seem to remember what life was even like when he didn’t hurt, when his head wasn’t split apart and forced open like an andev fruit. He screams in frustration, eyes bloodshot and wet with tears._

_His captor flexes his fingers, balling his hand into a fist as Poe loses all bodily control. He falls limp, head hanging forward, muscles unresponsive. His screams have been silenced but the question still roars between his ears. Somehow, over it all, he can still hear the hum of the interrogation droid._

_The pain hasn’t stopped. He doesn’t think it ever will._

_The man in black reaches forward, gently running his fingers through Poe’s hair, the touch like fire against his scalp. Poe twitches in the torture rack, body useless, thoughts overwhelmed. He lets out a small, pitiful and desperate whine as the hand tightens in his hair, pulling his head up to meet the emotionless gaze of the man’s mask._

_He feels like he’s slipping away, blackness crowding at his vision. He’s fading, and knows with a near-certainty that his body is going to give in soon, head lolling uselessly in his captor’s grip. The man shakes Poe in annoyance, forcing his waning focus back on the task at hand, back on the question._

_Poe blinks, mouth hanging slack, blood dribbling messily down his chin. The all-consuming pain surges through his body and then is drawn back, and Poe gasps for air, eyes darting back and forth in a panic. Before he can drag in a full breath, the agony returns, hotter and sharper than before. He cries out softly, the effort of it an afterthought, as he’s slammed back against the headrest of the rack._

_The question returns as well, asked by the familiar monstrous voice from above him. Poe feels the soft leather of the man’s gloves as his hands come to grip the sides of Poe’s head, fingers digging into his skin, hard enough to bruise. He can feel each one as the energy from it forces its way through his mind, the edges sharp and stinging and unrelenting as they follow the path the question takes, hunting greedily for the answer._

_Poe tries to block the intrusion but he’s too weak, too wrung out to fight against what’s asked of him. He bites his tongue in the vain hope that self-inflicted pain would somehow cancel out all the other agonies clamoring for his attention._

_He sags in his restraints, pushed past his physical and mental limit as the man tightens his grip and digs deeper. When the question comes again, there’s little Poe can do to stop his thoughts from darting to the answer, his survival instinct seizing control, frantically doing all that it can to just keep Poe alive._

_The man finally pulls his hands away and Poe can feel the careless tendrils of the Force as they’re roughly dragged from his mind, as indifferent as razors and as merciless as a thunderstorm._

_Poe’s head sinks back against the headrest and he tries to shut his eyes in shame. His torturer lets him lay slack for the barest of moments before grabbing Poe’s jaw and turning it to face him. He looks on blankly, sweat and tears stinging the cuts on his face. The man in black holds him in a tight grip for what feels like an eternity until he finally laughs, the maliciousness settling in Poe’s gut and twisting it._

_He closes his eyes again, overwhelmed with guilt. He failed. The man took everything. Poe can’t help but think of the General, and how disappointed she’ll be._

_The hand on his jaw falls away and Poe can do nothing beyond allow his broken body to lay limply against the device to which he’s chained. The aftershocks of pain coursing through his limbs leave him little control, not that there’s anything he could even do in this state._

_The man in black stands in front of him triumphantly, his demeanor arrogant and vulturine. Hours seem to pass before he finally leaves the cell, the relief of it barely registering through the thick fog occupying Poe’s mind._

_He cries out, weakly, to no one._

_Poe knows what’s next, what they’ll do to him, but he’s too destroyed to bother to care. The world moves on around him, oblivious and unfeeling. His eyes fall closed as his failure eats away at what’s left of his hope._


	3. Chapter 3

“…and then _I_ said, ‘ _Nerf herder_? I barely know her!’”

Poe’s hand flies to cover his mouth as he tries to swallow down the Rhuvian fizz that’s messily tumbling down his chin. Finn, too, is caught off guard by Rey’s expertly-delivered punchline, and he and Poe share a moment of wordless desperation as they struggle to breathe and laugh without choking.

Rey takes a sip of her own drink, smugly satisfied with her ability to bring the two to pieces.

“Please, Rey,” Finn coughs out, “a warning next time. You could’ve killed us.”

She smiles and leans back against the cushioned booth, waving each hand in exaggerated mocking. “I have become more powerful than you could possibly have imagined! _Tremble before me_.”

Somewhere else in the base’s practical but dimly-lit cantina, a small quartet has begun a string arrangement of one of Poe’s favorite songs from his New Republic Academy days, one about hope and kissing and the end of war. He takes another sip as he watches the way Rey and Finn play off of each other with a rhythm that usually only comes with years covering the other’s back.

For the first time in weeks he feels _normal_ again, like he can just exist in this space for a while and be satisfied. He takes a deep breath and appreciates it.

The three order a fresh round of a glittering blue drink that Rey thinks looks delicious (it isn’t), and they pass the next few hours swapping stories in a welcome but very needed night off.

Finn’s leaning against Poe and Rey’s eyes have gone a bit glossy by the time they decide to pack it in, long after the band and most other patrons have already called it an evening. Poe feels slightly guilty for practically drinking the pair under the table, but he admires their confidence. Maybe once they begin to build up a tolerance he’ll ask his dad to send over some Yavin IV moonshine so they can really see stars.

He’s nearly ready to loudly pronounce himself done when he feels it, that chill from earlier, cold and toxic and unshakable like an incoming storm. Rey’s fully awake now, her eyes bright and alert, and he can tell she feels it too. He wants to avoid it, prays to the Force that for whatever reason Kylo Ren is stalking around the base this late at night, that it has nothing to do with any of them. That maybe he’ll simply pass by and leave them alone. That he won’t have to deal with this, not again.

And then suddenly there he is, the corrupted son of his only remaining hero, standing in front of their booth, dressed menacingly in all black and having appeared out of thin air.

Poe wonders if the Force just doesn’t like him.

He stays silent for several reasons, but mostly because the man who tortured him so mercilessly and so recently is just… _staring at him_ in a way that makes Poe’s skin crawl.

_Don’t engage_ , he thinks, and he feels like a coward.

The tense silence holds between them until Rey finally speaks up, her voice whisper soft and sharp as a knife. “Why are you here?”

Kylo Ren drags his eyes off Poe only briefly to nod in acknowledgment at her and glance dismissively at Finn, who seems to have shaken himself out of his drunken haze. “FN-2187. I figured you’d be close by. Suppose I can’t exactly refer to you as a ‘traitor’ anymore now, can I?”

Poe moves to stand in response and is stilled by Rey resting a calming hand on his arm.

“Why _the fuck_ are you here?” Finn asks, slamming his fists on the table, not even trying to hide the disgust and anger in his voice. “Don’t you have a forest floor to lay dying on? Or did we not kick your ass hard enough the first time?”

Ren chuckles but his body language betrays him as he shifts on his feet, the nervousness of a man trying to navigate a social situation as an equal for the first time.

“I’m here to speak with him,” he says, raising his hand at Poe, who can’t help but flinch away from the familiar gesture. “With _only_ him.”

“Like hell,” Finn scoffs.

“Poe, there is no way I’m leaving you here alone with… with _that monster_.” Rey nearly spits the word out, her disgust palpable.

_Please stay with me_ , Poe wants to scream. _Please._

“I’ll be fine, Rey,” he instead replies, offering her a polite smile. “And if I come back weird, kill him.” Poe doesn’t know if he means that as a joke but he doesn’t blame his friends for not laughing.

His two friends lock hands and get up to leave, each offering him a sympathetic look. They walk away and he feels stranded, marooned on a remote planet without a working X-wing to fly him home.

General Organa’s son slides into the booth seat across from him. Rey’s spot. Poe watches him awkwardly try to scoot himself over and for a fraction of a second he almost appears human.

“Well? Talk,” Poe barks at him, wanting to get this over with.

“What’s your hurry, Dameron?”

Poe almost laughs. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say and I’d like to get this over with so I can go back to –“

“Back to pretending I don’t exist, right?” He practically oozes calmness and Poe wants to punch him right in the neck. When Poe doesn’t respond, Kylo continues. “You object to my being here.”

“Yeah, _no sith_.”

“Why?”

Poe scoffs, shaking his head as he moves to leave. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ve joined your side, pilot. Your Resistance was just given a gift that could win this war and you’re spending all of your effort being mad at me. Not a very good use of your time.”

Poe sits back down but his blood is boiling and his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He’s not scared anymore, he’s _furious_. “This is all some game to you, isn’t it? Everything you’ve done in the name of the First Order, you just… you just expect us to forgive you. Ignoring for a minute the very real and very personal things you’ve done to _me_ and _Finn_ and _Rey_ , what about the Hosian System? Or those villagers on Tuanul? They didn’t need to die. They did nothing wrong and you ordered them to be massacred for no reason.”

Kylo doesn’t even hesitate. “Was anything of value lost?”

“Was – _what_? _Anything of value?_ They were people, you gross _skug_.”

“I can see why the General likes you. So full of sentimentality, you two. Such heroes.”

“Look, why are you here? If you don’t even see the value in the lives of others then there’s no possibility of understanding each other. This is pointless.”

“No,” Kylo smiles, leaning forward. “This is war. You know people die. You’ve lost friends for years. You don’t want to speak with me because you took my interrogation of you personally. If I told you it wasn’t personal, would you believe me?”

“Not really.” Poe drains what little was left in the bottom of his glass and waves a hand at the Abednedo currently manning the bar to bring over more. He doesn’t ask if Kylo Ren if he wants anything because _fuck Kylo Ren, he can stay thirsty._

“Everything logical that I’ve done that has led to this point was necessary. You had information that the First Order required and you were stubbornly reluctant to give the First Order that information. To remove a nail do you not use a hammer?”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned before that it was necessary. We both know you enjoyed it. You didn’t have to make it hurt so much but you chose to. Why?”

“The acquisition of the map was becoming an ordeal. I’ll admit that I was angry and done waiting for your cooperation.”

“You don’t regret making it hurt so much, do you?”

Kylo’s expression is blank but Poe can read the truth on it. The two stare at each other in silence as the tension of the recent past hangs heavy in the space between them before Poe finally continues, defiant.  

“Well, you’ve seen me at my lowest and I still didn’t crack. You only got the information because you can read minds.”

“Like plucking the petals from a flower.”

“ _And you think that makes you strong,_ ” Poe bites back. The Abednedo comes by with his drink and Poe immediately downs half of it. To his disappointment, Kylo Ren is still sitting across from him when he sets his glass back down. “So, what was next?”

“Next?” Kylo is confused by the question.

“If the stars hadn’t sent me Finn, what was next? Execution? Would you have left me in that damned cell in that kriffing device to rot?”

“I had no investment in First Order prisoners. That was something for General Hux to decide. Perhaps execution. More than likely, reconditioning, if he knew of your skills.”

“These are people’s lives, man. I just… I struggle to understand how someone like General Organa could have created someone like you. You’re so cold inside, like an evil, unfeeling rock or something.”

Kylo laughs and Poe really wishes he wouldn’t. “I feel plenty, pilot. Many of the First Order’s recent mistakes have been the result of my emotions getting the better of me, that much I’ll admit. I’ve since spent quite a considerable amount of time working to temper my emotions when I can, and to only focus on issues or beings of high importance. Whereas you seem to let your emotions control you. Your anger is… _intriguing_. Had you been Force-sensitive maybe you would have been worth bothering with.”

“Hey buddy, you know what you need?” Poe asks, pushing himself forward. “A real good ass-kicking. From someone big and ‘ _insignificant_ ’, with a shorter fuse for bantha-shit and a real interest in helping people spend quality time down in the dirt.”

“Do you threaten violence at anyone who disagrees with your worldview, pilot?”

Poe falls back and laughs incredulously. “Threaten vi– ? You’re giving me grief after you literally _tortured me_ for hours? And then you follow it up with a fun, friendly conversation about how it didn’t even matter? H – how insignificant it was?”

“You take all of this personally when you really shouldn’t.”

Poe barks out a laugh and takes another long drink.

“Would you get mad at a droid for not admiring a sunrise?”

“What the absolute _pfassk_ are you talking about?”

“Would you get mad at a droid for not admiring a sunrise? Would you begrudge a whisper bird for flying? Or a glowfish for swimming? We cannot resent ourselves for the way we are, pilot. Something I’ve learned the hard wa –”

“Wow, how astoundingly _convenient_ for you. Accept the world for how it is so you don’t need to waste any effort trying to fix it.”

“Oh, quite the opposite, actually. I spent a great while with the First Order and Supreme Leader trying to fix the world. To rid it of its obsession with chaos. But the galaxy is far too vast to focus on the minutiae, like the lives of villagers on some dusty, forgotten planet. I did them a favor, if anything.”

“You’re a monster,” Poe spits, clenching his fist under the table.

“And you need me to win this war. You have heart, whisper bird. No one can fault you for that. But I’m here to take care of the bigger picture because no one else will. Because no one else can.”

“Such modesty.”

“Coming from the ‘best pilot in the Resistance’?”

“First of all, _nerf herder_ , fuck you. And second of all, why now? What’s your end game here?”

“Joining this side made the most logical sense. The Supreme Leader has outrun death for far too long, and with the discovery of the girl and what she is capable of, well… I’ve watched the tides.”

Poe sighs, his earlier fear replaced with just a crushing exhaustion and a desire to be anywhere else. “Man, just… if I’m of so little worth in your mind, why are you explaining all of this to me?”

“Don’t think I don’t see what she sees in you. You are a very skilled pilot who could prove usef –“

“Stop.”

Kylo doesn’t consider the request. “…You needed me to explain it. Your… _type_ always do. I’ve watched you for weeks, moping around the base like some fiery little Alderaanian just broke your heart. It’s pathet –“ he catches himself, adjusts. “It’s _aggravating_. You can’t be focused on the objective if your mind keeps getting sidetracked with questions or doubts about my presence. I’m doing you a favor, pilot.”

Poe tries not to erupt into laughter. “You’re doing me a _favor?_ Wow.”

“I’m not going to pretend that the call to the light that I feel means I’m going to start sharing your values, or giving a bantha-shit about any of you. I’m not sorry for the things I’ve done, to you or anyone else. But the General has made it very clear that my homecoming has…” he trails off, searching for the words. After a moment, he finds them. “To prove my intentions, I’d like to make you an offer.”

“Not interested.”

“You still feel it. I know you do. I’ve felt it too, radiating off of you, the fear and the pain you endured as I worked to recover the data from your memories. How reluctant you were. I had to dig, deeper and deeper, and still you resisted. It’s quite admirable, your resolve. So proud, even as I looked down on you while you sobbed and came apa –”

“ _Enough_.”

“I can end it for you. Right now. We can be like strangers.”

“It sounds an awful lot like you want back into my head, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that’s never going to happen again.”

“Can you?” Kylo answers too quickly, and Poe can’t tell for sure if he should feel scared or not.

Poe grits his teeth. The man in front of him is calm and detached and somehow so sure of himself but also nervous and uncomfortable, frayed at the edges like a fire that’s been burning for far too long. It’s terrifying.

“You ask for me to trust you and in the next breath, threaten me.”

“Force of habit. I am trying to remedy the situation. Injuring you suited my needs at the time. Repairing you suits my needs now.”

Poe scoffs and takes another drink, white-knuckled and so far beyond trying to hide his anger and contempt. “You think you’re above so much, don’t you? That you’re better than feelings and relationships and friends and this ‘chaos’. It’s a joke, a façade. I don’t need the Force to see how much regret you carry with you over the things you’ve done for those fascists. You think no one sees you flinch or wring your hands at the mention of Han Solo? Most of the people on this base want you dead and _you know it_. You know you deserve every dirty look, every hateful word whispered behind your back. You came here for redemption because you’re selfish and you don’t want to die alone and disgraced. I don’t need you to _fix my pain for me_ , Kylo-whatever-you-call-yourself. I need you to do whatever General Organa asks, and to stay the hell away from me.”

”She asked me to come here tonight.”

_No_.

It feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, like he’s been vented into space without a mask. His chest tightens and he feels that same panic rising up within him, tinted with the shades of betrayal he first felt weeks ago on Takodana. _She wouldn’t_. She _knows_ what her son did, and… _she wouldn’t_.

He can’t help the tear that breaks loose and falls down his cheek, but he doesn’t bother wiping it away. Of course the man across from him notices, but for once he doesn’t say anything. It’s not a kindness, Poe knows. It just doesn’t matter.

“Is that true? That General Organa wanted… that she wanted you to come here tonight? For that reason?” His voice is barely above a whisper because it’s all he has left within him.

Kylo nods. “You know it is.”

Poe looks down at his empty glass, past it to the distortion of the worn table beneath it, old wood that’s been nicked and carved into over so many years of holding fast. He chose this booth, always does, wherever it ends up when they move bases, because there’s a small reddish stain in the corner from where Muran once spilled a drink. It was this thick, syrupy mess they had picked up on Velusia, and it burned like hell going down. Poe handled his but Muran had some trouble, knocking over his glass as he flailed and tried to get the taste off his tongue.

The stain was nearly gone now, only visible if you knew where to look. It was the last night Muran and Poe had spent together before Muran was killed over Suraz 4 during a fight against the First Order.

“Okay.” Poe works his way out of the booth, throwing a few dozen credits onto his table for the drinks. He shakes himself out, stretching the muscles loose and finding his balance after spending such a long time sitting down. “Okay,” he says again to no one, and as he leaves he doesn’t look back at the man he’d left behind.

General Organa’s bunk is clear on the other side of the base but he finds his way to it in the darkness, not trying to think, not trying to do anything but get there in one piece. He reaches the door and huffs out a breath, knocking three times.

It takes her a minute to answer, considering the hour. She opens the door in her night clothes but she makes no effort to cover herself with a jacket or anything else; this is Poe, after all.

“Commander Dameron? Is everything alright?” she asks, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“I spoke with your son, ma’am. We… It won’t be an issue anymore.”

Poe wants to run, or curl up in a ball and cry, or jump in to Black One and fly back home to his father, or be anywhere but _right here_ , right now. He hides those feelings, buries them deep and locks them away.

She knows him though, very well, and she can see the fragile bits he’s trying to pretend aren’t cracked and scuffed or missing altogether. On instinct she reaches for him, to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He pulls away before she can and he can almost feel her heart break in front of him.

“Poe, I…”

“Ma’am.” He cuts her off. There’s nothing she can say now. He turns away and leaves her in the dark.

By the time he gets back to his bunk he’s numb, tired of feeling so much all at once. Things are different now and he knows he has to accept it. There’s still a part of him that wants to kill Kylo Ren, wants to fight the General against bringing him on board, but as he lays down on his bed he knows with absolute certainty that the next time General Organa needs him, when she says “jump”, Poe Dameron will always be there to ask “how high?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this last chapter, but a huge thanks to anyone who stuck with me! <3


End file.
